Juniper
“June? Can you give me a hand?”
Turning from the stack of clothes I’d been folding, I found my grandmother trying to lift a solid wooden rocking chair up onto a small display platform Grandpa had built a few days before. Her tiny five-foot, one-hundred-ten-pound frame shook with effort.
“Oh my gosh, Gran,” I said, hurrying over. “Stop! You’re gonna throw your back out.”
My grandmother, nearly seventy years old, had the chair halfway up, grimacing with strain.
“It’s…fine. Just need…to get it the last few inches.”
Grabbing the chair’s armrests, I quickly pulled the burden off her. I blinked in surprise at the heft of it as I put it on the display platform. Sighing with relief, I wiped my hands on my jeans and turned to glare at her.
“What were you thinking? That thing weighed like fifty pounds.”
“I know,” she said, grinning at me. “Quality work. Might even be an antique. We should make a good profit off it. It came in with a donation this morning.” She patted the wooden platform. “Your grandfather’s new addition to the store is getting used early.”
I’d worked in my grandparents’ secondhand store since I was a kid.
I’d started helping out with the sweeping, dusting, and tagging items, but now I did a lot more, since they were getting up in years.
The store held a lot of nostalgia for me, even though it was a bit run-down.
All the shelves were either handmade, like the new display riser, or discards my grandfather had repurposed.
“Great,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We make a few extra dollars, but you break a hip and end up in the hospital.”
She waved her hand at me and chuckled. “I’ll be fine.”
Behind us, the tinkle of the bell above the door jingled, letting us know we had customers.
I glanced over my shoulder. My heart sank, and a cold pit opened in my stomach.
Anders Burnell, the young new alpha of the Idlewild pack, strode in with his friend, Brock Gurney.
The two men strolled over to check out a display of retro T-shirts we had in the far corner.
“Customers. And cute ones too,” Gran said, nudging me with her elbow.
“Gran, stop,” I said through gritted teeth.
“He’s the alpha, dear. He’s also your age. Go talk to him, see if he needs help. Maybe you two will hit it off. I’m going to head back and help your grandfather break down cardboard boxes.”
He was the alpha, much to my dismay. To my mind—and most people in town—he wasn’t cut out for the role.
After our last alpha died with no heir, Anders and three other men who’d been born alphas challenged each other for the right to lead the pack.
Anders came out on top, and the challengers had bent the knee to him, as had we all.
Gran left before I could say more. I loved the woman dearly.
She and my grandfather had raised me. Their love for me was pure and unconditional, but that blinded them to my plight.
Being part of a shifter pack, and being unable to shift had made me a bit of an outcast, especially among the more well-placed members of the pack.
People like Anders and Brock had bullied me for years.
Things had been fine until after puberty, when it became obvious I either had no inner wolf, or simply couldn’t make contact with her if she was there.
I still remembered the night Anders and a few others my age had led me into the woods for a midnight swim, only to leave me there, lost and alone.
Anger flared in me as I watched Anders lift an eighties Denver Broncos long-sleeved T-shirt and laugh about something with Brock.
That anger faded a bit when I remembered the kind, mysterious man who’d found me that night and showed me the way home.
To this day, my lips tingled whenever I thought of him and my first kiss.
Pushing the old memories aside, I sighed and walked over to the two men.
Anders was built like a sprinter, lean and lithe. His shaved head gleamed under the store’s lights. Brock, who was more of a sycophant follower, stood behind him, broad shoulders hunched, black hair buzzed close on the sides but long on top, the curls looking like a head of broccoli.
“Afternoon, guys,” I said, forcing a polite tone into my voice. “Can I help you with anything?”
Anders glanced at me, and an unpleasant smile crossed his lips.
“Well, well, well,” he said, poking an elbow into Brock’s ribs to get his attention. “Looks like good ol’ Juney Hollis wants to help us.”
My smile evaporated. “Please don’t call me Juney. My name is Juniper.”
When his smile grew, I cursed myself. There was only one way this would go. I should have kept my mouth shut, but here we were. I’d have to live with the consequences.
“Did I hear that right?” Anders asked. He nudged Brock again. “Was I being impolite?”
Brock shrugged, glancing at a display of antique porcelain plates.
Anders gazed at me, his eyes inscrutable but intense. Waiting for me to say something, maybe? He’d always been like this. His pettiness and bullying had been more muted since he became alpha, but the same old Anders was still underneath, ready to come creeping back out given the first opportunity.
He tossed the shirt aside. “You don’t want us to call you Juney?” he said, enunciating the word. His eyes glimmered with malice. “Then I guess we won’t, will we, Brock?”
Brock smiled wanly. “Sure thing, Juney, whatever you say.”
Clearing my throat, I gestured around at the store. “Is there anything I can help you guys with?”
Anders sighed wearily. “You know part of the pack finances come from a percentage of revenue on businesses, right?”
He said it like he was talking to someone who could barely understand that two plus two equaled four.
Of course I knew that. Shifters paid into a general fund that the pack used for a host of things.
It was our version of the sales tax humans paid the government.
It was also a source of constant stress for us.
The shop always had business, but things were often tight once our percentage was paid.
“I do,” I said, doing my best not to grit my teeth.
He nodded once. “Maybe you should try to help your grandparents increase business. I like Mr. and Mrs. Hollis; they’re good people, but they still need to shoulder their share.
I’ve seen the numbers. This shop produces less revenue than any other business in town. How about we do something about that?”
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure neither of my grandparents were around. They didn’t need to hear this, especially not from the new alpha. It would only give them anxiety, and at their age, that was the last thing they needed.
“I can try,” I said. “Maybe some sidewalk sales or something?”
“Whatever,” Anders said. “As long as they pay their pack dues, I don’t give a shit. Can you help with that? Like, I mean, are you able to? I know you have your, uh, condition,” he added with a faint smirk.
“He means because you can’t shift,” Brock added absently as he checked the price tag on a used leather backpack. “Can you actually help, is what he’s saying.”
Even though I’d been expecting it, the words still stabbed into my heart.
Not everyone in Idlewild believed shifters who were unable to shift were lesser beings, but enough of them did that life here was always a little more difficult for me than it should be.
Now that Anders was the pack alpha, I wondered if it would get worse.
Sure, people didn’t like him, but he was still the alpha.
His opinion mattered, and people tended to follow their leader.
I prayed his opinion of me wouldn’t bleed into the rest of the pack.
“I think I’ll do fine,” I said. “We’ll take care of everything we need to take care of. Okay?”
Anders nodded slowly and scanned the sales floor. “Maybe add a snack counter or coffee station. Something that can get you all a little extra revenue? Might be a good idea.”
I didn’t like how he wielded his power, always pushing his own agendas and opinions.
He was still the bully I’d known in school, but now that he was the most powerful man in town, he’d become more subtle, yet somehow more forthright in his tyranny.
He seemed to relish being the alpha more than was appropriate.
Ignoring his last comment, I plastered a smile on my face and shrugged. “Well, if there’s nothing I can help you with, I’ll get back to work.”
Snorting, Anders gave me a sad shake of the head, then patted Brock on the back. “Want to go get a burger?”
Brock leered at me. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here before I lose my appetite.”
They left without giving me a backward glance.
The doorbell chimed again as they exited, sending a gust of frigid winter air billowing inside.
Once they were gone, I released a heavy sigh.
Thank God that was over. I continued folding the clothes I’d been busy with, then stacked them in a small pile.
As I worked, I tried my best to get my mind off Anders and his comments.
A few months of power had gone straight to his head.
Before I’d even finished the pile, the doorbell jingled again, and my heart leapt to my throat. Had they come back to bully and degrade me some more?
“What’s up, girl?”
I nearly sobbed in relief at the voice. Not Anders or Brock. My best friend Beatrice.
“Hey,” I said. “Just working. What are you up to?”
She walked over, shrugging off her winter coat, her blonde hair swaying. “What am I up to? Are you serious? I’ve been doing what you should be doing. Getting ready for tomorrow tonight. I got my hair and nails done for the occasion.”
“Oh,” I muttered, my smile vanishing. “That.”
She arched an eyebrow, peering at me with her dark brown eyes, as if trying to figure out what was wrong with me.
“That? Seriously?” Beatrice said, then looked over at my grandmother as she stepped out of the back room. “Mrs. Hollis, are you hearing your granddaughter right now?”
Gran looked up and smiled. “Oh, hello, Beatrice. What are we talking about?”
My insides shriveled. As much as Beatrice looked forward to tomorrow night, I’d been dreading it.
“She’s acting like the arrangement ceremony tomorrow night is no big deal,” Beatrice said.
Gran hurried over, looking eager to engage in some girl talk. As much as she loved Grandpa, he wasn’t big on chit chat, and she thrived on it.
“June, you should be excited,” she said, running her hand across my shoulders. “It’s a big day. You know, that’s where your grandfather and I were first paired up.”
The arrangement ceremony, led by the pack elders, took place every year.
Any wolf who had yet to meet their fated mates were paired together at the ceremony.
The specifics of how they made their choices were kept hidden to everyone but the elders, but it was an open secret that they used some sort of astrological chart, birth records, and blood tests to make the pairing based on how well the two people would work together.
For the most part, the pairings worked well—my grandparents were the best evidence for it.
It wasn’t an instant connection like a fated mate, but that was a once-in-a-lifetime find.
You could grow to love whomever you were paired with and have a happy life nonetheless.
Hell, some people never found a fated mate, and their only option was a regular mate.
That was nothing to be worried about or ashamed of.
My issue with the whole thing was that the elders might pair me with one of the members of the pack who didn’t want to be with a shifter who had no ability to shift.
I’d tried everything over the years to find my inner wolf, from meditation to yoga, and still I couldn’t shift.
How many shifters would want to bind themselves to someone like that for the rest of their lives?
“Was it love at first sight?” Beatrice asked, looking at my grandmother with bright expectant eyes.
Gran snorted. “I don’t know about that. We’d known each other for years.
Grew up together. When the elders called out our names, there was a bit of shock and surprise, though everyone realizes they’ll be paired with someone unexpected.
Fated mates come from powerful binding magic, and they usually find each other naturally, but the pairings at the ceremony come out of left field.
” She grinned conspiratorially. “That’s part of the fun. ”
“Fun. Yeah,” I said, doing my best to smile. “Sounds great.”
Their smiles faded at my tone.
“You’re still worried about who you get paired with?” Beatrice asked. “I told you not to worry. Girl, you’re gorgeous, smart, funny. Hell, you’re prettier than I am. You’ve got it all.”
“Don’t say that. You’re beautiful, and you have an inner wolf.” I sighed, shaking my head as I looked at Gran. “If I had the sight, I could go ahead and see who I end up with.”
Gran chuckled. “I don’t think it works that way. Not that I would really know. That was your grandfather’s side of the family.”
The sight—the ability to see into the past as well as anticipate the future—was one of the rarest gifts shifters had. Grandpa didn’t have the gift, but apparently his own father had. It appeared that little gift had run its course through the Hollis family, since I didn’t have an ounce of it.
“This is what you need to do,” Gran said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Be yourself. That’s all. If you do that, then everything else will fall into place. Have faith. I’m positive the elders will pick someone wonderful for you.”
“Exactly,” Beatrice said, beaming at me. “You’re gonna have a great time tomorrow night. Mrs. Hollis, can Juniper take off early? I want to help her pick out something cute to wear.”
“Of course,” Gran said, patting my back. “Go on, dear. We can handle the rest of the day.”
“Okay.” Mustering as much excitement as I could, I grabbed my coat and stepped out from behind the counter. “Let’s go.”
“So exciting,” Beatrice squealed, looping her arm into mine.
As we left and walked down the sidewalk, I thought about my grandmother’s words. Be yourself. That sounded good in theory, but for me, that might be the worst thing I could do.